


someone that makes me feel seasick

by orphan_account



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/M, Ghosts, ghost Derek Venturi, i promise it won't be sad, probably, there's major character death because he's a ghost though!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey McDonald's college experience starts with a well-intentioned but ultimately inconsiderate roommate and continues into a room that eats her belongings and a best friend that won't shut up about a supposed ghost haunting her living space. Derek Venturi's new roomie experience starts with a keener who studies before she unpacks or showers and continues with said keener writing off every joke he plays on her to temporary hallucination. This can't end well.</p><p>Inspired by a prompt by swag-canada on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the prompt by swag-canada on tumblr (p fitting for lwd tbh): monster/ghost and student who’s too tired to give a fuck that they’re being haunted au
> 
> to be honest, i never thought i’d be writing lwd dasey fanfic (i didn’t even ship it as a kid), but here i am. and i actually didn’t want to do a paranormal/fantasy au when i was looking for au prompts, but that prompt was so dasey i could not help myself. 
> 
> also, this takes place in college, but since it’s already paranormal/fantasy, i decided to include a lot of the characters from their high school since it’s au and i can basically do whatever, haha. 
> 
> thanks for reading, and i'd really appreciate feedback! :)

\- - -

<< _princess_ >>

_\- - -_

The whole mess starts at about two weeks before midterms.

And she just wants to stress that, okay? _Two weeks_. That’s pretty much no time at all. If anything, it’s the minimum amount of time you’re supposed to spend studying. Everyone knows that. Everyone sane, anyway.

Unfortunately, her happy-go-lucky, slacker roommate is not someone she’d be quick to call sane. Case in point: like she said, it’s two weeks to midterms, fifteen to three AM, and her roommate is not even home yet. While she appreciates the peace and quiet, she’s also dreading her eventual return. It’s not that she hates her, per se; it’s only that, well, she’s not exactly a quiet person, and she is at the height of concentration.

But, well, she wants to be an accommodating roommate. She does _want_ to. She’s always known that the road to success is riddled with hard-to-deal with people, and she’s used to overcoming obstacles; it’s a key part of who she is, the old McDonald resilience her mother has always been proud of.

But also… hasn’t worse has come to worst? She swears she’s about to snap. Wait, no; “snap” is a little harsh. She’s not about to _snap_ , she’s only about to… overcome this obstacle in a different way. After all, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, right? She’s _been_ the accommodating roommate, and look how that worked out.

So, really, she doesn’t have a choice. She has to expand her horizons, and if those horizons have to expand to include freaking out on her roommate, well, so be it.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

It’s two weeks to midterms, on a Friday night – or Saturday morning, depending on how you want to look at it – and she’s up studying, as she always is; after all, you can’t be over-prepared. And, she swears, a _second_ before she’s on the verge of an academic epiphany, the doorknob starts to jiggle, eventually turns, and her roommate walks – _stumbles_ \- in, loudly and nonchalantly greeting her, “Hi, Case!” without even bothering with an apology.

And that’s when Casey McDonald decides to expand her horizons.

Before she even realizes it, she’s already unleashed every bit of her pent of frustration, and she hasn’t spared a detail, simply let the vitriol flow from her mouth to the room.

It’s almost therapeutic, really. She feels like she should regret it, but she _can’t_ ; she’s not the one at fault, anyway. When her roommate takes responsibility for her actions and promises not to do them anymore, maybe she’ll feel bad. But it won’t happen, anyway.

It doesn’t happen.

What does happen is this: her roommate walks up to her, pats her on the back patronizingly, and asks her with a laugh in her voice, “Are you okay? I know it’s two weeks before midterms, but you need to calm down! It’s a weekend. Weekends are for taking breaks, dummy!” With that, as if no harsh words were spoken between them, she strolls into the bathroom, leaving Casey dumbfounded.

But… try as she might, she doesn’t hate her roommate; it’s a pointless exercise, like hating the ocean for making waves. This sort of thing is simply in her roommate’s nature; there isn’t anything that can be done about it.

What she does hate, though, is _living_ with her. After all, if you can’t stand the ocean, you can live in the desert.

So, staring at the bathroom door, she makes a decision.

She’s going to expand her horizons all the way to a different room.

And that is how it all begins.

\- - -

“This isn’t going to happen. Stay with Kendra. Roommates are supposed to handle this kind of thing on their own.”

She narrows her eyes at her resident director, skeptical of his claim. She corrects him. “Are you sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure the _resident director_ is supposed to handle arguments between _residents_.” She flashes him a smug grin.

He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Look, Casey, small things like this, they’re not part of the job description. I can’t let you switch rooms; I do that once, then everyone wants it! I don’t have time for that,” he tries to reason with her.

“This isn’t a ‘small thing’!” she shoots back, offended. “This is my _life_! If I stay with Kendra, I fail midterms! I fail finals! And do you know what happens when I fail midterms and finals? I fail college! And when I fail college, that’s it! I’m homeless. I’m homeless, and then I _die_! Is that what you want?” At the end of her question, she takes a deep breath. She hadn’t meant to go off like that, but all she did was speak the truth. And, if it overwhelmed him enough to say yes, she’s okay with it.

She watches as his eyebrows furrow and a frown forms on his lips. “Casey? Casey, you need to calm down. I can promise that won’t happen whether you get a new room or not… But,” he continues, hesitance in his voice, “I just _can’t_ magically make you a new room.” He pauses and looks at her, probably looking for a sign of concession, but she holds her ground, keeping her determined stare fixated on him. He sighs. “Find someone to take your place, and… I’ll consider it.”

She smiles, clutching imminent victory in her hands. “Really? Thanks, Paul! I’ll be back!” She rises from her seat and jets out of the room.

The metaphorical desert, here she comes!

\- - -

Okay, so maybe the metaphorical desert will have to wait?

For some reason, no one wants to take her place. She honestly can’t tell why; it’s not like everyone hates Kendra. Maybe they were afraid of pissing off their current roommates? Even then, though, it really shouldn’t be _this_ hard.

Like, she’s spoken with her best friend, and even _she_ won’t do it. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised Emily doesn’t want to take her place, considering how much complaining she’s heard about Kendra, but she’s her _best friend_. She’s pretty sure this is the kind of thing best friends do for each other.

She’d tried telling Emily that, but she apparently didn’t agree.

She’s not about to give up, though. So what if she hasn’t even come close to convincing even one person that it maybe was a good idea to switch rooms with her? She’s Casey McDonald! What would her mom say if she gave up now?

Well, her mom would probably consider the entire endeavor trite and tell her to deal with Kendra, but, well. Her mom not being there is one of the benefits of being at college, so…

Anyway, she’s digressing. The point is, there’s still one person left that she can ask, and even if she’s the last person she’s asking to switch rooms with her _just_ because she thought she probably wouldn’t be able to sway her, she still _can_ ask her. Even if her room is really great and one-person.

Last ditch as it is, it’s her only option.

She strides down the hallway, emanating confidence.

And then she knocks on the door and waits a second.

No answer.

She knocks harder.

Is she out?

No, not two weeks to midterms. She knocks harder.

Suddenly, the door flies open, and a girl is standing in front of her. She’s blonde, skinny, and unmistakably pretty; her lips are pink and her face is round, giving her an air of sweetness. However, despite her attractiveness, there’s something clearly off with her: her hair is frazzled, bags are clearly visible under her eyes, and her cheeks are pale. Even though it’s already the late afternoon, she looks like she's just gotten out of bed – and like maybe in that bed was an angry tiger mauling her.

“Hi, I don’t know if you know me. I’m Casey,” she introduces herself, holding out her hand to shake. She bites her lip. “Um… are you okay?”

She flashes her a polite smile, which is nice, but does nothing to distract from her state of mess. “Sally. And yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… been a long night. Do you need something from me?”

“O-Oh!” Casey says, remembering why she’s there. She straightens her posture and lifts her chin, preparing herself to make the hard sale. “Yes, um, so I’ve been having problems with my roommate recently and I was wondering-”

Before she can get to the benefit of her room, Sally’s eyes light up, and she cuts her off. Maybe it’s rude, but Casey’s honestly thankful for it; she doesn’t even like the room herself. She _can’t_ make the hard sale!

“Do you want this room?” Sally asks her, sounding… disbelieving?

At Sally’s reaction, she fumbles with her words, losing her sales pitch and breaking eye contact. Sally obviously isn’t in peak condition, and making the hard sale is pretty much taking advantage of her sorry state. And apparently Sally realizes it, too. “I mean, only if-”

“Oh my God, it’s yours, you can have it,” Sally cut her off again, this time radiating happiness.  Her eyes crinkle, and Casey swears she’s giving off a faint glow. Her expression reads like she’s spent the last forty years wandering the desert and Casey’s just given her water. Which, she guesses, goes pretty well with the whole desert-ocean metaphor she’s got going on, but that’s neither here nor there.

What _is_ here, however, is: why is she so happy? “Are you serious?”

Suddenly, Kendra walking into her room at four in the morning flashes in her mind… Kendra blasting music and watching movies while she’s clearly studying… Kendra not listening to anything she says… _Kendra_...

She remembers what she thought about taking advantage of Sally and looks at her guiltily; she can’t let Sally walk blindly into having Kendra for a roommate in good conscience. “I feel like I should warn you-”

“Oh, no, no, no. No need. Do you need me to sign something? Go with you somewhere? I-”

Wait… Sally doesn’t care? Does she really prefer anything to her own room? Casey’s not about to complain, but she _is_ curious. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so excited about this? What’s wrong with your room?”

“Um… nothing?” Sally tries, a hesitant grin on her face.

Casey shakes her head and laughs. “Oh, no, I am _definitely_ switching with you; I can’t live in that room anymore. I’m just… curious, I guess. And I want to be prepared,” she clarifies.

“Oh!” Sally realizes, relief evident in her voice. “Um, sorry for trying to lie to you; I just won’t be able to stand another day living there. The reason I need to get out so bad is, well… that room is kind of… terrifying?”

“What do you mean?” How is she even supposed to _take_ that? “Terrifying”? What does the room do, make noises at night?

“I’d explain, but you seem levelheaded, and I don’t want to sound crazy. Let’s just go officialize this room trade, huh?” Sally asks with forced peppiness.

Sally’s still skirting the topic, but Casey does appreciate her go-getter attitude and the fact that’s she ready to make the exchange right now. And, well, she doesn’t care _that_ much. She’ll find out eventually, anyway.

\- - -

“You’re moving out? Why didn’t you say anything?” Kendra asks when she sees her packing, a pout on her lips. “I thought you liked me!”

She sighs, but she does feel a little guilty. Only Kendra would be oblivious enough to not realize she’d want to move out after being yelled at by her multiple times. “I do like you, and I _did_ tell you I wanted to move out, you know. It’s not personal, it’s just, your habits are… not ideal, and you know, you never listen when I ask you to stop doing things!”

“So? We’re still friends! And I thought you were joking!”

She probably did think she was joking; Kendra never really seemed all there when she was talking to her. It’d be just like her to tune her out, anyway.

Twangs of guilt pull at her again. Despite all the not listening she does, Kendra really does like having her as a roommate, doesn’t she? Even after she’d yelled at her so many times, too. It’s sweet, but Casey’s already gone so far, and she’s pretty sure if she cancels on Sally she’ll have a breakdown. And, of course, grades.

Casey opens her mouth to tell her as much, but she’s interrupted by a knock on the door. Emily, probably; she’d told her to come by and help her pack. Kendra turns her head at the distraction and opens the door, not even asking who it is.

“Emily!” she greets her. They’d been acquainted multiple times, on account of Kendra inviting herself to their chick flick nights. She's never been bad company, but the whole inviting herself thing is a very Kendra-esque move. “You’re just in time to tell Casey that she’s being _crazy_. Did you know she wanted to move out? It’s like we’re not even friends!”

Emily looks at Kendra quizzically. “You really didn’t see this coming at _all_?”

Kendra looks like she’s about to speak, but Casey cuts her off.

“Look, Kendra. We _are_ friends,” she says. “I’m not moving because I don’t like _you_ ; I’m moving because I don’t like _living with you_.” She considers going into the desert-ocean metaphor, but decides against it. “Think about it. If I move out, you can watch movies whenever you want and play music whenever you want and come home whenever you won’t and I won’t be annoyed, and you won’t be lectured. It’s better for everybody.”

“You know, Casey… that _is_ a good point,” Kendra concedes. She pauses a second, thinking. “But then, where are you going to go?”

“Yeah, Case. Who finally gave you the room? Did Sandra give in?” Emily asks.

“Oh, that’s the best part! You’ll never guess who gave it to me: Sally! I get a room _all to myself_ ,” Casey brags, mentally congratulating herself.

A smug smile is still on her face when she realizes neither of them had commented on her good fortune.

“Um, what’s wrong?” she asks them, turning away from her suitcase.

Emily shares a… knowing(?) look with Kendra, and then begins to speak. “You mean Sally from the end of the hall?” she asks Casey, sounding... concerned?

“Not like there’s any other… Why?”

Kendra grins at her, excited. “You mean you didn’t know? That room is, like, super haunted!” Lowering her voice, she continues, “I heard someone died there, like a decade ago.”

Casey laughs. “Are you guys serious? How did someone die in a college dorm room? What, did they over-study?” she asks, knowing the idea is ridiculous in and of itself.

Kendra pouts. “You know, the only reason you think that’s crazy is because _you_ would’ve died from over-studying by now if that was a thing.”

Casey doesn’t reply to that, mostly because she can’t; even she has to admit the validity of Kendra’s point. “Well, either way, there’s no such thing as ghosts. I thought this was _college_ , not elementary school. Don’t be crazy.”

The ghost thing is about the weirdest thing she’s heard at Queen’s; for one thing, like she said, it’s _college_ , and also, it’s a _top_ college. How has the rumor even prevailed enough to get to her?

Well, yeah, Kendra believing in ghosts isn’t much of a stretch, but… she doesn’t have words for it. The concept is ridiculous.

It’s while she’s thinking this that she catches Emily’s eye, and notices her… solemn expression? She realizes Emily hasn’t reacted to anything she’s Kendra’s said so far. Don’t tell her… “Wait, do _you_ believe this stuff, Em?”

Emily shrugs. “Well, why do you think Sally always looks like such a mess?”

That _is_ a good point. The memory of Sally calling the room “terrifying” flashes in her mind, but she ultimately can’t entertain that idea for more than a second. “I don’t know, because she’s a college student? There’s no such thing as ghosts, guys.”

“I don’t know, Casey,” Emily replies skeptically, as if _she_ has a right to be skeptical… Who is it that was seriously considering the idea of a ghost haunting a college dorm room? “I’ve heard a lot about this ghost, and it’s spread way too far for just a dumb joke. Just… I’m not going to visit you in your room, okay?”

“Em!” she cries, the betrayal stinging. Two betrayals in one day, huh… First the room, now this…

“Me too,” Kendra chimes in. “I don’t want to take my chances on a ghost, either. You can come back here any time, though!”

\- - -

As she unpacks her bag, Casey hums to herself.

Emily had walked her to her room, but she left before Casey even opened the door, calling Casey the white person in a horror movie and saying that she wasn’t about to be starting any stereotypes about black people. Casey thought it was a joke, but she was awfully deadpan about it when she did it… She still doesn’t know if she was being serious.

The worst thing was, Emily always seemed so levelheaded, and now… ghosts? Where did that even come from?

Well, everyone has their quirk. And well, maybe irrational fear of ghosts is a widespread entire college kind of quirk.

But please, the room _terrifying_? That’s a joke.

White walls, a queen bed, a desk, a dresser, a mirror, a bathroom. The room is fine. A little ratty, but she’ll get used to it. Maybe she can even fix it up and make it more home-y after midterms.

Wait! Midterms!

Dammit, she wasted so much time!

Tossing aside the rest of her unpacked suitcase, she pulls out all her coursebooks and starts studying.

Everything else has to wait, ghosts included.

(And maybe personal hygiene, but she doesn’t have a roommate, anyway.)


	2. im-ma-ture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so i’ve decided on tuesday updates, because tuesday is the best day of the week, and friday updates are overdone. plus, y’all are probly too busy partying on weekends anyway. (i know about your double lives. fear me.)
> 
> also, i realized i forgot to say “someone that makes me feel seasick” is a line from the wombats song “kill the director.” it’s very british, but it’s also very dasey. the seasick line isn’t actually my favorite line, but it’s pretty accurate for this fic, considering they both drive each other nuts. (my favorite line is “don’t talk to girls, they’ll break your heart” which…. definitely isn’t accurate to this fic! haha!!...?)
> 
> apologies for the slow pacing; i promise they’ll meet sooner rather than later. i mean, they kind of meet in this chapter, but not in the fun way. please bear with me. :)

\- - -

// im-ma _-ture_ //

_\- - -_

Sally is gone.

It’s a shame. He liked Sally, really. She’d been the whole package: gorgeous, smart, _funny_ … Plus, the way she looked when she was scared? It was the kind of thing you become a ghost _for_.

Pink lips half-open, blue eyes wide… Sally was always gorgeous, yeah, but when she was _scared_? Maybe it was just him, but he could swear she was _stunning_ like that. He remembers her that face like he’s only seen it yesterday; he wishes he has.

But she’s gone now. He’d pretend he didn’t know why, but he’d only be fooling himself; even _he_ knows he was pushing her a little too far near the end. But how is he supposed to help it? She reacted _so_ _much_. He just wanted to see how far it would get!

Well, now he knows. It would get exactly… that far. But he expected her to stop reacting before leaving.

Whatever, though. He’ll get over it. He always gets over it; he kind of has to. Girls are only here for as long as they dorm, and he’s only here for as long as… well, forever.

He tries not to think too hard about it; it’s little overwhelming, depressing. He doesn’t think about it the way living people don’t spend all their time questioning their lives. Like, “Why am I here?” “What am I doing here?” “What’s the point?” etc., etc, except for him, it’s more like “Why am I here _forever_?” “What am I doing here _forever_?” “What’s the point _of being here forever_?” It’s a little damning, is what he’s saying. He’s over that.

He’s resolved to be the same in death as he was in life: Derek Venturi, in it to have fun. Insert suggestive wink here.

Because, you know, the dorm he died in _did_ become a girls’ dorm. This “having fun” thing isn’t really all that hard in a girls’ dorm. It could be worse, at least; he could be in a guys’ dorm or – he shudders at the thought – a _classroom_. Imagine having to listen to lectures for eternity. Yuck.

But fate had been kind and given him a girls’ dorm. Hey, maybe this whole thing is his own form of heaven! He wouldn’t be surprised.

Well, he wouldn’t be surprised… except for one thing.

Casey McDonald.

That’s Sally’s replacement?

_That_?

Well, okay. He _will_ admit that she’s maybe a little pretty, but that only goes so far, and also? She is _so_ not his type. She’s not blonde, first of all, and second of all, _no_. Definitely not his type.

Also, she’s a freaking _keener_. Maybe Sally wasn’t a party-every-night promiscuous party girl, but at least she had fun _sometimes_. He’d had a little hope for Casey when she came in, but then she started _studying_ before she even finished packing.

Who _does_ that? Who hates themselves that much?

And now it’s been a couple days and he swears, that’s all she does. Eat, sleep, go to class, study. Lather, rinse, repeat. (Actually, he’s pretty sure she hasn’t been washing her hair, so he probably shouldn’t have used that phrase.)

Well, he might’ve seen her reading for pleasure earlier. Though… he couldn’t really tell if it was for pleasure at all. He doesn’t attend her classes; the only reason he assumed it was for pleasure was that it didn’t look like a textbook.

Either way, though, it doesn’t even matter. There’s no universe where he would _ever_ count reading as having fun, even if the person _did_ enjoy it! The real problem there, he thinks, is that the person _hates themselves_. And when they stop hating themselves, they’ll realize they hadn’t been having fun at all.

That’s her problem, probably. Casey McDonald hates herself. It isn’t surprising, at least.

Not like he’s going to do anything about it, though. He has better things to do, like… watch everything Casey does. Be overly invested in her life. Stare at the silhouette of her sleeping form at night?

Damn, is that really it?

Wait! With his disbelief at his new roomie’s lifestyle, he’d forgotten his main source of entertainment in room 154: ruining his tenants’ lives!

Or, well… maybe he’ll be a little less extreme than that. Ruining is a little much. He can’t have another repeat of Sally; at least, not immediately.

He just needs to have a little fun with her; that’s all. After all, what’s the point of being a ghost if you can’t even do that?

\- - -

She can’t be that hard to mess with. She’s the nerdy, study-obsessed type; that isn’t that hard to figure out. Keeners are usually high-strung and break at the smallest things, like a rubber band stretched too far.

He starts subtle. His first move is when she’s studying (He doesn’t have to wait long for her to do that, anyway, the sad little nerd.) and she turns away from her books a moment. The operation is simple: he takes her pen and makes it disappear. He’s a ghost; he can do that.

This subtle technique is important; at first glance, it seems harmless and dumb, but it’s important to subtly introduce the idea of insanity before you go too far.

“Hey, where’s my pen?” Casey asks, drawing out the question as she lifts her books up only to find nothing.

For the first time, Derek is _happy_ she talks to herself; his ghostly powers don’t include omniscience, and there’s no point to doing this if he doesn’t get to hear her reaction.

The whole talking to herself thing is pretty sad for her, though. She’s as friendless as they come; _no one_ hangs out with her in her room. Usually, people take advantage of the one-person facet of the room and have people over (Take that any way you’d like.), but the only people she has over are books she borrows from the library. If she didn’t talk to herself, he’d probably have never heard her voice.

But, even if it’s for the better… it’s still annoying.

“Well, I don’t have time to look for it now,” she says nonchalantly, clearly unfazed. “I mean, it’s just a pen!”

And he watches her pull out a pen from her stupid nerdy pink pencil case.

(See? Annoying.)

He takes that one, too. Casey doesn’t care. Casey doesn’t care the entire night.

Even after eventually losing her entire pencil case, she doesn’t care. She just ends up typing her notes without giving her missing stuff any thought.

_Resourceful_ , he grumbles to himself as he watches her study as if nothing’s happened. He can’t stand this.

He puts her stuff back on her desk after she falls asleep that night. He puts them right in plain sight, hoping it’ll freak her out at least a little, but of course, when she finally wakes up, she just attributes it to serendipity, tucks it into her bag, and leaves for class.

He swears, he hates every freaking thing about Casey McDonald.

Every. Freaking. Thing.

\- - -

Okay, so maybe he started a little too subtle.

But he’s going to get that girl to stop studying if it kills him! (Again…? He really needs to stop using that turn of phrase, considering he’s already killed and everything.) He _needs_ to. If he doesn’t… what’ll happen to his ghost rep? If you can’t upset a keener, what’s the point? They’re the lowest on the “hardest people to mess with” scale!

_Living_ people mess with nerds. It shouldn’t be harder for a dead one!

He scans the room for ideas, sitting on her bed. The room itself boringly perfect, as it usually is; a neat desk, a perfectly made bed, clothes folded up and tucked away somewhere. He _can_ ravage the room… but, no. That move’s too easy, too unoriginal; it’s not unique to the great Derek Venturi at all. Messing up a room isn’t classic; it’s _cliché_. Plus, he can definitely see her blaming it on the wind or something stupid like that. Because, you know, there’s such a terrible draft coming in from the firmly shut windows that it can ruin an entire room. That probably isn’t too big a leap in logic for crazy Casey.

But he’s losing focus here. What can he do that’ll mess with the core of her being? He thinks a second.

There are two textbooks on her desk, but is he going to go that far? He knows this’ll stop her from studying, but at what cost? Textbooks are important to keeners. Even despite her flawed nerd values, he doesn’t want to take her textbooks the same way he doesn’t want to take a normal girl’s cell phone or laptop. He wants to _mess_ with her, not _destroy_ her.

But, still… he considers the idea.

It’s not like she ever notices anything, anyway. He’s taken every pen she’d taken out of her pencil case, and then the entire pencil case, and she hasn’t batted an eye. If taking the textbook will illicit _any_ reaction, it’ll be worth it. And will it really mess with her that bad, if she doesn’t even need them for class?

Anyway, if worse comes to worst, he can always completely scare her off if he needs to.

He can, right?

…Of course he can.

\- - -

“Huh, my textbooks are… gone?” Casey notes, confusion in her voice, but not _anger_ , not _frustration_. “Well, I guess I can’t study Economics tonight! Or Business Law! Doesn’t matter, I have plenty of time… and other subjects.”

Derek groans internally.

He’s going to _murder_ Casey.

Okay, not _murder_ , but he’s leaving his morals at the door today. Forget this “I don’t want to psychologically destroy her” thing; he’s going to do _something_ to Casey if it’s the last thing he does.

As soon as she _blinks_ , Derek takes every single one of her textbooks in a fit of frustration.

And, of course, what does Casey do?

_Not freak out._

But… He keeps watching her.

“Well, I have no more other subjects, then… Maybe-” She yawns. “-I’ll just have to sleep early today. I have a lot of… time…” she says to herself slowly as she… crawls straight into bed?

Wait… has he finally gotten her to stop studying? Is this the victory he’s been craving? Has he… _won_?

He stares at her form, now knocked out. Doubt begins to creep into his mind.

Is this really the ideal alternative? He isn’t _feeling_ victorious… Then again, has he even messed with Casey at all? It seems like all he did was give her an excuse to take a break.

Why does _he_ feel played?

\- - -

It’s a couple of hours later when he makes his next move.

Yeah, he let Casey sleep a _little_ ; he isn’t usually that good of a person, but the girl hates herself. As much as _he_ hates _her_ , he’ll cut her some slack. She seems really messed up, anyway. Whatever did it to her probably wasn’t him, but she’s messed up nonetheless.

And yeah, he _does_ make a next move. God knows he did not succeed by letting her take a nap. Even if he had sort of taught her how to let loose and have fun? It’s like _Footloose_ , except instead of dancing, it’s… taking an appropriate amount of rest.

Well, that’s all kinds of pathetic, but it’s not like he expects much more from everyone’s favorite keener.

Anyway, the next move he makes is also the most ridiculous move he’ll ever make, and he’ll regret it later. He knows he’ll regret it later before he even does it, but for some dumb reason, he does it anyway. Not like the dead need logic.

It starts with the lights flickering, but it doesn’t end there.

Let him clarify something first, though. His powers as a ghost go like this: dead, inside of that dorm, he’s basically a god. (Alive, he hadn’t been basically a god, considering he _died_ in there, but he’s not going to talk about that now. Or, probably, ever.)  He can do whatever he wants; he can speak, move stuff around, do some ghostly apparition thing, mess with the lights… anything, basically. It’s like the universe’s own apology to him, like, “Sorry you’re dead and stuck in a college dorm room for the rest of your life! As consolation, you can do whatever the hell you want, even kill a person, but we’re kind of hoping you don’t do that. Have fun!”

The stuck in a college dorm room thing is weird, because it’s not a _physical_ thing, it’s a psychological thing. Like, the minute he tries to leave, his entire brain goes, “Nope. No. This isn’t happening. You’re staying here, sorry.”

Maybe it’s better that way, anyway. Who knows what’ll happen out there?

He’s getting off-topic, though. He just wanted to clarify the extent of his ghostly powers, which is, in summary, everything.

He makes the lights flicker.

And then, just because he’s completely _done_ , done with Casey McDonald and her refusal to react, he opens his mouth, _cackles_ (He’d done it a lot when he was alive, for theatrical effect.), and says, in the spookiest, most evil voice he could manage, “I am the ghost of Derek Venturi!” No, that sounds wrong. “I am the ghost Derek Venturi. You have angered me!”

Casey doesn’t move and Derek almost gives in and pushes her off the bed in frustration. Almost.

“Angered!” he repeats in his evil “ghost of Christmas past” voice, hoping for _something_.

Casey groans and says something unintelligible.

“The ghost Derek Venturi didn’t hear you and would like you to _speak louder_!” he demands.

“Sto-o-op. Shut up!” she yells, her eyes not bothering to open. She does move, though; unfortunately, her movement is burying her face in the pillow.

…He didn’t expect that. “But! I am-”

“Em! Shut up about ‘Derek Venturi’, I don’t believe you! There’s no ghost! And if there is one, I’ll deal with it after midterms. If I’m going insane, I’ll deal with it _after_ _midterms_!”

Her voice is muffled by the pillow, but he listens carefully; this is the only time she’s ever reacted. Still, though… It doesn’t feel like she’s reacting to him at all. And… who’s Em?

Whatever. “Are you even fully conscious right now?” he mutters out loud, putting away his “ghost Derek Venturi” BS away for the night, not even caring. It’s not like she’ll remember it in the morning, anyway. This whole thing is pointless.

And, looking at the girl in front of him, he feels kind of guilty. Keener or not, midterms are pretty important to her. And she's a _mess_. It’s like Sally, but worse, because it’s not funny and only stressful. He can’t even claim to be the cause of everything wrong with her, anyway. Everything he’s done until now is pointless; it’s like he’s been poking and prodding at her while she’s been sick with the flu and hazing in and out of consciousness. She barely knows who she is, let alone what he’s doing to her.

Maybe he’ll back off. Until after midterms. What’s the point in bugging someone who won’t notice you, anyway?

And… he has to admit, pranking someone while they’re down is taking a moral toll on even him. It’s more like a form of torture than good-natured humor. And maybe, considering what he did to Sally, he shouldn’t be talking about torture and humor, but there was something different about that. At least she acted _alive_ when he messed with her, right? Casey just… She’s _different_. Sadder, maybe…?

He examines her sleeping form, irritated. He notices her comforter had ended up on the floor next to the bed; she’d been tossing and turning the whole night. Hesitantly, he picks up her blanket and spreads it over her.

There. He did something nice. He doesn’t need to feel bad anymore.

“Just wait ‘til after midterms, McDonald. I’ll ruin you,” he swears to himself under his breath.

When the game’s fair, he won’t have any qualms about driving her crazy. It’s a good crazy, anyway.

“Emily, shut _up_!” Casey yells, curling up tighter in her blankets.

Derek glares at her for ruining his moment. Did he really just feel pity for _that_?

Plus, who the hell is Emily?

And, if he remembers correctly… Why is she talking about him?

He’ll worry about that _after midterms._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are love! 
> 
> …reviews are life. ;)
> 
> (honestly, though, all feedback is appreciated, especially critique! let me know how i’m doing on casey’s characterization, especially; that’s what i’m shakiest on. and if you’ve got any lingering questions about derek, like “why’s he a ghost?” or “what does he do all night?” or “what’s up with his pranks being so lame?” i promise they’ll all eventually be answered. most of them, at least. some of them???)


	3. head-case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i've been neglecting this story lately due to school and exhaustion, but luckily this one's already done. it's not exactly heavily edited, though. please forgive me; i just got home and am about to pass out, welp. despite all that, though, i hope you like it!
> 
> (also, i was watching lwd recently and, like, imagine if you had to do the sound effects on that show. like it's cheesy more often than not, but it seems really hard to do? like, "after this joke i wanna use a wink-wonk sound... no, not that wink-wonk sound. that's too wink-wonky. the _other_ wink-wonk sound! i can't believe i made this mistake. all those years in college wasted...")

\- - -

( ( _head-case_ ) )

\- - -

Casey McDonald is not insane. Casey McDonald is fine. She’s better than fine, actually; she’s finished with her midterms, and she’s free!

Free, of course, to begin preparing for the coming semester, but that’s not the point. She could afford to take breaks now. She’s… she’s finally sleeping again!

See? So there’s no reason for her to be feeling so uneasy all the time, like something’s going on that she doesn’t know about, like her mind isn’t functioning correctly anymore when it comes to things that aren’t books and essays and projects. Like reality is changing every day.

And, because there isn’t any reason for her to feel so uneasy, she doesn’t feel uneasy. She feels fine. Happy, maybe.

“Case, are you okay?" a voice interrupts her thoughts. That’s… That’s her best friend, Emily. Her hand lays on her shoulder, holding her still. “You seem really out of it.”

Casey looks at her and remembers where they are. Emily had run into her at the quad on the way to the school cafeteria to get brunch. It’s the first time she’s seen her since testing ended; Casey had spent the last couple of days mostly unconscious.

“What?” Casey asks, forcing a laughing lilt into her voice, pretending the notion is ridiculous. “I’m _fine_. I’m just… really happy.”

Which is maybe a lie? She’s _definitely_ out of it; even she has to admit that to herself. She’d just forgotten where they were, what she’d been doing… Then again, though, she _is_ a college student, and more than that, a college student whose life’s mission is to get that 4.0 GPA. She has a lot of her mind.

“You know, you’ve been acting weird ever since you changed rooms,” Emily comments, not even acknowledging her denial, but Casey isn’t even offended; even she has to admit “really happy” isn’t believable in the least. “I thought it was just midterms, but those ended a couple of days ago.” The corners of Emily’s mouth turn down.

“It’s not because of the room, Em,” Casey insists tiredly. “You need to let go of this ghost thing.” For a while, she didn’t shut up about the ghost. It got to the point where she was doing _research_ on the fabled ghost when Casey shut her down. During midterms, it had been easy to tune her out and study, but she couldn’t say the same now.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Emily replies, and at the changing of Casey’s expression, Emily quickly amends, “Not the ghost thing. I mean the room thing. I already promised I would stop talking about the ghost, remember?”

Casey’s eyebrows furrow. “If you don’t mean the ghost, what _do_ you mean?”

“I don’t know…” Emily bites her lip and pauses, trying to find the words. “I think you’ve been spending too much time alone and driving yourself crazy with studying. Maybe living alone isn’t working out for you.”

“Oh, come on! I’m not _really_ living alone; you’re just a couple of rooms away. And believe me, if anything, _Kendra_ was not keeping me sane,” Casey says with a half-hearted laugh, but Emily’s expression remains cheerless, verging on pitying. “I mean, not that I’m _in_ sane.”

“Okay, Case,” Emily responds, thinly-veiled skepticism in her voice. “But you really need to get out of your room; I never see you anymore!”

Casey holds back the urge to say that she could fix that by coming into _her_ room, and settles for waiting for her to continue. She doesn’t want to aggravate Emily; all she is is concerned for her, anyway.

“You know, my roommate’s going to a party tonight, and she won’t be home until morning. If you want, we could rent a movie,” Emily suggests.

Casey smiles. “That sounds great.”

\- - -

It’s been an hour since the credits rolled on _The Notebook_ , and she’s still crying.

Emily’s hand is rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her; she’s been doing it since the dam had burst on Casey’s tear ducts, looking more than a little bewildered. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”

“Y-yeah,” she chokes out through her tears. “I just… I just forgot how beautiful it was. They were so perfect for each other, and they had to go through so much, and-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Emily whispers soothingly, still rubbing.

She sniffs. “Thanks, Em. Sorry for all the crying; I know this isn’t what you had in mind. Just…” Her mind wanders back the movie. “…it’s _so sad_ , they go through _so much_ , I…”

Emily hands her a tissue. “You know, when I rented _The Notebook_ , I knew there’d be crying, but I didn’t think you’d cry this much. I kind of thought this would help you work through your feelings… but I guess it didn’t really work out, huh?”

Casey blew her nose. “No, I had fun,” she insists as she uses her sleeves to wipe tears from her cheeks. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m just… tired, it’s really late…”

“I don’t want you to leave crying." Emily bites her lip. “I could get _Bridget Jones’s Diary_ on my laptop?” She smiles hopefully.

“Well, it is kind of late…” Casey says, hesitant, “and I don’t want to bug you anymore, so-”

“I’m the one who asked, it’s be fine. And you could stay here, we could have a sleepover!”

...A sleepover? Casey furrows her eyebrows. “What about your roommate?”

“She probably won’t even come back tonight!” Emily insists just as a knock sounds on the door. Casey looks at her pointedly. “I could ask her to leave?” Emily shakes her head, looking like even she knows that’s ridiculous. “She could watch with us!”

“No, she hates me already.” Casey takes Emily’s hand off her shoulder and stands. “I’ll just go back to my room. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Emily frowns. “I’ll walk you,” she says, and Casey smiles. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary; Casey is pretty sure she can make the twenty feet without getting jumped. She doesn’t tell Emily as much, though, but just follows as her friend stands up and opens the door, telling her roommate “I’ll be back in a second,” when she sees her.

“Thanks,” Casey says as they walk. “Not just tonight, I mean worrying and everything.”

“I’m your friend; that’s what we’re supposed to do." Casey feels her soft smile. Aggravating as it is, Emily being concerned is really sweet.

She looks at Emily when they reach her room. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Breakfast?” she asks her as she unlocks the door.

Emily nods absentmindedly, frowning as she catches a glimpse of the inside of her room. Casey wrinkles her nose when she realizes Emily hasn’t been listening to her words at all. “You really need to get out of that room, Casey,” Emily tells her seriously just as the door shuts. “I’m going to talk to Paul for you.”

“Wait, you really don’t need to-”

Emily is already gone.

\- - -

She wakes up the next morning – well, afternoon – to a text from Emily. “Ugh, does she have to text so early?” she asks exactly no one as she checks her phone.

_paul says he needs to talk to u. can you go see him l8r?_

After reading the text, Casey groans and dials Emily’s number. She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, you’re awake. What’s up?”

“You talked to Paul?” she whines. “I don’t want to change rooms!”

“Well, he didn’t say yes to anything, so don’t worry about it. You just have to talk to him. Please?” Casey starts to form the "no" on her lips, but her friend cuts her off. “I already told him you would.”

“Emily, you can’t just do that,” Casey complains. “What if I had a lot of stuff to do today?”

“But you don’t, right? Midterms are over,” Emily answers. “Look, I’m just worried about you, okay? Please go. I promise not to bug you about this ever again!”

Casey weighs her options. On one hand, she’ll have to go talk to Paul about something she doesn’t even want to do. On the other hand, Emily leaving her alone about the ghost and the room is something that’ll make her life way less stressful. Well… she’s spoken to Paul before, right? Plus, it’s not like he’s an intimidating presence.

She sighs in resignation. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’re the best, Case!”

She hangs up and gets out of bed. As she stretches, the clothes hanging on her closet door catch her eye. Normally, something like that isn’t of any note; she hangs clothes on her closet door. She’s a normal person. However, there was one thing about the clothes that were out that might’ve been a little worrying…

She hadn’t put them out.

At least, not specifically _those_ clothes. What she put out last night was a sensible if simple blue jeans and a white top, and what hangs there now is… a red skirt and a yellow top.

They don’t even match.

She sighs, changing out of her clothes and pulling on the yellow top and red skirt. She _probably_ put it out. What else would have done it? It was late last night and she was crying about Ryan Gosling, anyway… She’ll put on the clothes.

Whether she put them out or not, she can’t bring herself to care.

\- - -

“Casey!” Paul greets her when she walks in. “Sit down.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

She takes the seat. “Hi, Paul. So I know Emily’s been speaking to you, and-”

“Yeah, about that." Paul's lips press into a serious, no-nonsense frown, but hesitance (and maybe... fear?) shine through his eyes. "Look, whatever’s going on with your room, I really can’t let switch. I made an exception for you already, and you _did_ spend a long time finding that room. And I honestly don’t think we’ll find someone to move into your room with the same… _vigor_.”

Vigor? Casey isn’t sure what that means, but she doesn’t want to ask.

“Plus, you probably don’t want to move back in with Kendra, and-”

“Relax," she tells him, eying him curiously. Why is he so frazzled? Maybe she’d been a little overbearing last time, but he should’ve been able to handle it. That’s the kind of thing you deal with when people put you in a position of authority. “I don’t want a new room. Emily’s just being… overinvolved.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Paul says, sighing like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “I was afraid I’d have to argue you down.”

“Well, you can rest easy,” she laughed, and started to stand up. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Wait. Sit,” Paul said, pointing his finger at her and bringing it to the seat. “I heard you haven’t been feeling well lately?”

Casey sat down hesitantly. “Emily exaggerated, I’m just a little stressed… Why does that matter to you?”

“You know, one of the jobs of the resident director is taking care of the _residents_ ,” Paul smirks, obviously thinking he’s clever for his little call-back. “And that includes counseling. What’s going on that’s making you so stressed?” He leans back in his chair.

“Well, you know, midterms were a while ago…”

“That’s normal,” he tells her with a nod.

“And…”

“And…?” he asks, looking at her peculiarly and tilting his head to the side.

She bites her lip, deciding whether or not to tell him. “You can’t tell Emily about this.”

“As your counselor, I’m not actually allowed to tell anyone anything you say,” Paul informs her, a hint of bemusement in his voice. She doesn’t appreciate it, but she ignores it anyway.

“Well… a lot have stuff has been happening that I guess I don’t understand?”

Paul’s eyebrows furrow. “Could you expand on that?”

“I think I’m hallucinating. When I was studying one night, I was writing notes down with a pen, and when I turned around, the pen just disappeared!”

Paul laughs.

“That’s just the beginning! Every time I took out a new pen, it would disappear, and that went on until my entire pencil case disappeared. Then, that morning, all the stuff I lost was in plain sight on my desk.”

Paul smiles slightly, which Casey doesn’t appreciate at all, and asks her, “Listen, have you considered that maybe you were just tired? You obsess over tests a lot; you probably were just falling asleep.”

“But that’s just the beginning! One time, I came back from class, and the two textbooks I _knew_ I left on my desk were just… gone! And then the next second, the rest of my textbooks were gone! I was tired when it happened, so I just went to sleep, but that morning? Everything was back again! You can’t tell me that’s normal!” Casey insists.

“Well-”

“And you know what else? Look at my outfit, Paul! Look at it!” She stands up and gestures to her shirt and skirt, a look of anguish on her face. Paul had started this weird sort of rage in her she can’t stop.

“It’s… nice?” he tries.

“It’s _not_ nice! Look at this!” She tugs at her skirt. “Why am I wearing a skirt this short in _winter_? It’s freezing! _I’m_ freezing! And look at this color scheme! What am I, McDonalds?” She sits down again, her blood boiling. “You know why I’m wearing this? I’m wearing this because these are the clothes that were hanging on the back of my closet door, even though I _know_ I had jeans and a different shirt out yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Casey, but couldn’t you have just gotten different clothes out of your closet?” Paul asked her, more than slightly bewildered.

“I don’t care enough! I don’t even care anymore. What happened to me? I’m going crazy, and I don’t even know why, and I don’t even care!” she yelled. “And you know what? That’s not even the worst part! The worst part is whenever I try to talk about this, everyone just says it’s because of the ‘ghost in my room.’ Can you believe that? We’re in college, and everyone thinks there’s a ghost in my room. You know people are spreading rumors that someone died in that room? You should be handling that, Paul! You’re the resident director!”

“That’s really not-”

“And you know, Emily’s my best friend. She’s my _best_ friend, and she’s levelheaded, and sometimes she even has more common sense than me, and _she_ believes this ghost stuff the most! She’s _never_ been in my room! _No one_ has been in my room! They’re all afraid of the ghost!”

She stops a second, and Paul decides to reenter the conversation. “If you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t _you_ afraid of the ghost? All these things sound pretty ghostly to me.”

“Are you serious? Even _you_ believe in the ghost? You’re a grown man! Sorry to burst your bubble, but ghosts aren’t real!”

“But wouldn’t that explain every problem you’ve been having so far?” Paul presses.

“Maybe, but you know a more rational, reasonable explanation than a ghost? Me going crazy!” She pauses a second, and then turns up her nose. “Even though sometimes I feel like the only sane person in this place.” She looks at him pointedly. “Especially when _grown adults_ are trying to convince me ghosts are real.”

“Oh, come on, Casey, I was just wondering. Personally, I don’t believe in the ghost; like you said, I _am_ an adult. But I don’t think you’re going insane, either. I think _you_ have been pushing yourself way too hard with midterms and need to take a break. Watch a movie – something _light_ , Emily told me how you were hysterical after _The Notebook_ – sleep it off. Classes are over for a while. Make the most of it! If you’re still crazy after the break, come back and we’ll talk some more about… ghosts.”

Casey bites her lip. “Maybe you’re right.” She sits there a while, thinking. Emily had said the same thing, but if Paul was saying it, too, maybe they were right. “I guess I’ll go rent a movie… Take a shower. Hm.” She stands. “Thanks, Paul!” she says, and walks out.

She _had_ been pretty tired lately, anyway. That had to be it.

\- - -

It happens the night after she speaks to Paul and watches _Bridget Jones’s Diary_ with Emily. She’s already been in bed for about twenty minutes when she swears something starts blowing into her ear.

It can’t be a draft, because drafts don’t come in from the ceiling, and wind can’t be completely vertical. Wind can’t blow _down_ , only people can.

Casey buries her face into pillow, and the technique works until something starts messing with her hair. She inwardly groans.

She’s just tired; it’s making her hallucinate. It’ll stop when she winds herself down; she just has to wait until then, and then everything will be normal again.

But it’s when she’s thinking this that the light flashes on, and male voice very clearly says, “Why don’t you react to _anything_?”

Casey shoots up in her bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun starts soon. ;) see you guys next tuesday~


	4. idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter yet? longest chapter yet! 
> 
> it took me awhile to get back into the writing groove, since i had to stop writing for because of school for the past couple weeks, so the writing might seem a little iffy at times. please forgive that.
> 
> anyway, i do have a week off now! of course, i’ve also got a ton of schoolwork to do, but i’ll try to bang out a couple chapters before break ends so those’ll be done before the coming tuesdays.
> 
> also, does anyone else think sally looks like buffy the vampire slayer because damn, she does. i see why derek was into her tbh. his heart belongs to casey, though, that’s a real canon fact.

\- - -

\+ +   i d i o t   + +

\- - -

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

How the fuck did he mess up _that_ bad, _again_? The last time, he’d been lucky and she’d been barely-conscious, but… he was _subtle_ this time. He didn’t have to wait. He knew she’d probably attribute all he was doing to ceiling-wind or whatever, so he didn’t have to be cautious about whether or not she was conscious. It was pointless if she wasn’t awake, anyway. He just shouldn’t have lost it at the end, there. He’d gotten her to move, at least… Why’d he look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Who are _you_?” she asks, looking directly at him. “Why are you here? This is a girls’ dorm, pervert!”

No fucking way. Not only had he accidentally talked out loud _and_ turned on the lights, he’d _also_ made himself _visible_?

It needs to be repeated: How the fuck did he mess up _that_ bad, _again_?

He backs up from her bed, holding his hands up.

“I’m going to call the police! Scream! I’ll-”

The door starts to open, and he reflexively makes himself disappear.

“Casey, are you okay?” a girl before asks her. “You’re making a lot of noise.”

His mind races. Who is she? Pink pajamas… relentlessly curly dark hair… piercing eyes…

He knows who this is. This is that girl that walked Casey back to her room yesterday and glared at nothing! He’d only seen her a second, since it had been night and she hadn’t stood in the doorway that long, but he remembers her glaring at nothing pretty intensely. The minute had stood out to him because, well, he always expected Casey’s friends – if she had any – to be more like prep central instead of a single fierce chick. In retrospect, though, he also expected Casey to be pretty easy to wind up, so maybe he shouldn’t be so trusting in his own expectations. It doesn’t matter, anyway.

Now, the girl looks a lot less angry. Maybe concerned, but… not angry, at least. That’s… better, right?

“I’m not okay! Don’t you see there’s a-” Casey turns to gesture to her left, where Derek _is_ , but where she can’t see him anymore. At the sight of nothing, her eyes widen and her jaw drops, the seething hate in her expression replaced with dismay. “Oh my God… oh my God, oh my God, ohmyGod…”

“Are you okay?” the girl asks her, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth. “If you need someone to stay with you…”

“It’s alright, Em. I just… had a bad dream. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Casey tells her, looking straight at her, but also not looking at her at all. It’s like she’s looking through her, staring deep in her direction like she’s searching for something. She’s clearly not all there.

Yeesh. Derek is definitely not excited for this confrontation. He does what he knows best and flees, settling in the corner farthest from her bed. Of course, for the sake of not looking like a fearful child, he sits as cool as possible, one leg stretched out and the other bent, with his hand resting on his elevated knee. If he’s going to cower, he’s going to look cool as he does it. And… well, no one’s seen him in _years_. His comeback has to be great.

And, before you ask, no. The first time she saw him doesn’t count.

“O… kay…? Good night,” the girl calls, giving Casey one last look and closing the door.

“Good night,” Casey says, but this time lighthearted. She’s… happy now? Women…

Derek weighs the pros and cons of revealing himself again. There are exactly no pros… but can he still play off this revealing himself thing as a hallucination? How little does Casey trust herself?

He’d like to think he wore her down a _little_ , but he even he has to admit the possibility is doubtful. Plus, if she doesn’t trust her own eyes, it means he did much worse than wear her down; he _broke_ her, like a wave toppling a cliff. (Do waves topple cliffs? He doesn’t know…) The whole thing is lose-lose; even in death, he can’t catch a break.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Casey’s voice. For a second, he hopes maybe she’s only talking to herself again, but he knows it’s wishful thinking. After all, it’s not like luck’s been on his side at all today.

“Hey, I know you’re there. I saw you already, you can’t convince me I’m going crazy again.”

After contemplation, he wordlessly makes himself visible. To maximize the dark and mysterious aspect of being a ghost, he doesn’t look at her, like he doesn’t need to. It’s not because he’s, like, afraid to speak to her or confront her or anything. Definitely not that.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Casey comments, staring at him in awe.

He knows the awe is probably due to the fact he’s a ghost more than his jaw-dropping good looks (but he _does_ have jaw-dropping good looks, rest assured), but the way she stares at him strokes his ego just that tiny bit. And with what she said… you honestly can’t expect him _not_ to take the bait.

He drops the mysterious act to look at her “Yup. Guess the man of your dreams wasn’t too perfect after all,” he smirks, and then flashes her his best Blue Steel. She throws a pillow at him. He dodges it.

“Shut up, you jerk. Do you _know_ what you’ve been doing to me?”

She’s making this _way_ too easy. “That’s just the Derek Venturi effect,” he tells her, winking.

Visible as he is, he decides this is way more fun than when he was trying to make her think she was insane. The whole insanity thing just lowered his self-esteem and made him feel a ridiculous amount guilt. Now, they’re on an even playing field, and he doesn’t have to feel so sad for her every day. He hated all that sadness; he’s never been an empathetic person, and there’s a lot less guilt in getting her openly worked up than whatever she was doing before. It’s like a sort of catharsis for her, really.

She throws another pillow at him. “Stop adding layers to everything I say!”

The pillow catches him on the shoulder, and although it doesn’t hurt him on account of he’s dead and can’t feel, he groans and rubs his shoulder instinctively. A question pops into his mind. “Hey, sorry for wondering, but shouldn’t you be _afraid_?”

“Please,” Casey brushes him off smugly, a smirk sitting on her face. “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it ages ago. Or done it to any of the other girls who lived here before me. _You_ just like messing with people.”

She… has a point, but it’s kind of aggravating, the way she acts like she has him figured out even though twenty minutes ago, she was internally rationalizing him tangling her hair and not knowing he existed. “Hey, you don’t know! I could be sitting here waiting for a high-maintenance keener to send me off of the edge.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, clearly humoring him.

He decides let go of her uppity-ness and get to the actual point. “Look, anyway, shouldn’t you be… _reacting_ to this? I mean, you know, ‘ghosts are real, oh my God!’? I feel like you’re acting a _little_ too normal about this.”

It’s supposed to be more… He doesn’t know. Satisfying? Before, he’d been hoping he’d at least be able to scare the crap out her by being a ghost and also real, but she wasn’t even fazed by that. And that was his last-ditch plan, too. It wouldn’t even have worked if he had to resort to that!

Now he knows it’s more fun to wind her up, but… the idea that his last resort wouldn’t have worked is kind of ego-crushing. He rests his cheek on his hand and looks down.

“I don’t know… You’ve been making me feel like I’ve been going insane already, so I guess that fact that you’re real just make me realize I’m not crazy after all. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it…?”

Her tone is awfully relaxed… He looks up at her. A smile has somehow found a way on her lips despite everything that happened that night, and it’s just… _different_. Every time he’d seen her smile before, there’d been something behind it – stress, denial, insanity, whatever – but now, she looks… at peace. Her face is positively beaming, her blue eyes shining, and, even though her face is framed with wild, tangled hair and she isn’t dressed to a T, in that moment, even he has to admit she’s-

 _Not_ pretty. He studies the floor.

She isn’t pretty. Maybe she better-looking than usual, but that isn’t an accomplishment, anyway. Sally was prettier.

But… that’s neither here nor there. He lifts his glance from the floor and smirks at his roommate, used to her grossly happy face at this point.

“Yes,” Derek agrees, “it is. _You’re_ ridiculous. What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Shut up,” Casey says, but she seems more amused by his comment than annoyed. The grin hasn’t left her face, anyway. “You know, you’re really unhelpful.”

Like he’s there to be helpful. “I’m not here for you, you know.”

Casey squints at him. “Why _are_ you here? I mean, aren’t you dead? Why’re you spending the rest of your… death, I guess… _here_?”

He sighs. “I don’t think I like you that much, so excuse me if I don’t answer that. Look, shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

“I guess you’re right,” Casey… agrees?

Did she just _back off_? Does he have some kind of power over her now? Nice! He was afraid he’d have to go through this annoying “tell me your past thing,” but his roomie doesn’t seem into that either. Maybe Casey isn’t that bad…

Okay, no. He can’t even think that without taking it back immediately. But, in this case, she’s pretty convenient. In every other case she isn’t, though.

He decides to experiment with this newly found convenience.

“You’re tired, anyway. This whole thing is a hallucination. You won’t remember this in the morning?”

“Nice try, jerk,” she replies. “But you _are_ right when you say I’m tired… Hey, can I ask you to turn off the lights?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not your personal light switch.”

“You’ve been ruining my life for the last few weeks, can you just do this?” she asks him, a lopsided smile on her face. He groans and concedes, shutting off the lights.

“Just this once,” he grumbles.

“Thanks!” she says, and he sighs, but doesn’t reply. He prepares himself to sit in the dark with only his thoughts again, but she stops him before he gets too entrenched in it. “And one more thing. Look, when I go to sleep, can you _not_ mess with me? I know you’re there, anyway.”

“No promises,” he replies, and then disappears. Ha, what a cool exit! That’s the stuff you wait for when you’re a ghost.

Then again, though, it _is_ pretty dark. Did she see him disappear?

Gah, he doesn’t care about what that nerd thinks anyway. Or sees. He did it, and he knows it. That’s all that matters.

He sits, going over the night in his mind when he’s interrupted.

“Wait a second… were you _blowing_ into my _ear_?” He’s not going to answer that. “Der-ek!”

What she doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt her… or him.

And… he was _desperate_ , okay? You can’t blame a guy for trying.

\- - -

He almost doesn’t notice when she wakes up. It’s only when she sits up in her bed, scanning the room that he sees her. He appears immediately.

He’d thought about the situation the night before, and he decided not to change anything. That was, if he _could_ change anything, anyway.

It’s because, while he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he kind of misses speaking with people. There’s everything that comes along with that, but… he does miss it. Being what he is… honestly? It’s kind of lonely.

And… he’s already messed up with Casey. It’d be a shame to not take advantage of it.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greets her, sitting in his signature corner.

She squints at him, wrinkling her nose. “You’re real,” she says, sounding almost disappointed.

Well, that was a lukewarm greeting. Not to mention… it wasn’t a greeting at all? “I’m pretty sure we went over this last night. And, what, you can’t spare a ‘good morning’ for your friendly neighborhood ghost?” he asks, half-joking and half-not. He’d say he’s not offended, but… he _is_ a little offended. He did greet her first, albeit somewhat mockingly.

“Good morning,” she humors him, though not without an eye-roll. He doesn’t appreciate it, but he leaves it alone. “And we did, I guess, but I was hoping…”

He furrows his eyebrows. Is she trying to imply…? That’s low, even for her. “Are you trying to tell me you wish I didn’t exist? Didn’t you say that me existing made you realize that you’re, and I _quote_ , ‘not crazy after all’?” Despite his attempts to stay cool, the anger seeps out of his voice.

“Whoa, you need to calm down, that’s not what I meant by that. And what I said yesterday is true, but if _you’re_ real… then what else is real? I need to start reevaluating my life if you’re real. And maybe apologize to a couple of people…” Her eyes dart downwards in shame.

What does _that_ mean? …Well, does it even matter? Neurotic Casey was probably just being neurotic to some other people, and it just so happened that neurotic Casey was also wrong Casey. No surprise there. “Whatever. As long as you’re not going around telling people about me, I don’t really care.”

She looks at him like she’s about to say something, but stops. After a minute, she rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the sympathy.” She pulls off her blanket and starts to get out of bed, muttering, “I need to take a shower.” He watches her pull her towel from her closet silently – he would’ve added in some jab about how she really needed a shower or something, but decided against it – when she turns around like she’s possessed by the devil himself. “Wait a second. Have you been watching me change?” she asks him, her voice shrill and accusatory.

He snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve got better things to look at than a half-naked keener.”

Which is a lie. He has definitely watched her change. But can you blame him? He’s been in the room for _years_ and nothing’s really changed; the only thing that keeps him sane is his roomie. Maybe much less so with Casey, but the point still stands. Do you really expect him to look _away_?

Honestly, it’s not that exciting, though. Oddly enough, it isn’t that satisfying being a perv. It’s come to the point where the only reason he watches is because he just doesn’t want to bother looking away. He looks at his roomie just because there’s _nothing else_ to look at. That’s it, really.

…Okay, maybe also because Casey’s kind of hot and maybe he’s kind of a perv and it still is a _little_ satisfying because goddammit, he’s still a guy. But all the other stuff, too, though. _Mostly_ the other stuff.

Casey lets out a small hmph, apparently not seeing through his line. “Look, this may have been your room first and everything, but we need to set up some rules, okay? Can you just… always stay visible when I’m here?”

He sighs, but concedes. It’s an understandable request, and it’s not like he really loses out on anything. She knows he’s there. “Yeah, sure,” he says with a casual wave of his hand.

She squints at him like she can’t trust him, which he also understands on account of he just lied to her face, but it still rubs him the wrong way. She doesn’t _know_ he just lied to her; she should really be trusting him!

The corners of her mouth turn down into a frown, but if she doesn’t believe him, she doesn’t say anything. “Also, you can’t watch me change. Or go in the bathroom while I’m in the bathroom.”

He looks at her peculiarly. “Oh man, how ever will I stop myself?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

It’s probably unfair, because it’s not like he ever stopped himself in the past (in watching her _change_ – he’s not going to follow her into the bathroom like some pervert. Plus, he doesn’t even know what she’s about to do in there; even if he’s a little bit a pervert, he’s not a _kinky_ pervert. At least, not that kind of kinky, anyway.), but if he has to put her down to make himself seem less creepy, he’s willing to make the sacrifice.

She frowns at him silently in response, and he breathes out, exasperated.

“Look, I can’t even go in the bathroom, so it doesn’t matter. Just like how I can’t leave this room. Don’t worry about it,” he assures her.

This, of course, is a lie, because what kind of arbitrary ghost rule would that be? Like, what, the bathroom doesn’t count as part of the room? It’s absolutely ridiculous, but Casey seems to buy it.

Plus, like he said before, it’s not like he’s following her into the bathroom anyway, so he can keep up this lie in good conscience. If it’ll make her less neurotic and annoying, it’s worth it.

“Really? I guess that’s one thing…” she considers. “Don’t watch me change, though!”

He’s only said he wouldn’t a million times. But also… “Unless you’re planning on changing out here, in front of me, I really couldn’t anyway, genius.”

“Right,” she says thoughtfully, but nonetheless, when she strides into the bathroom, she closes the door and locks it.

He thinks about mentioning the fact that he’s a _ghost_ , so he could probably get past the lock, but decides against it. He does resent the action, but… Casey is Casey. He’ll let her do it if it makes her frazzled or whatever.

Not like he’s losing anything, anyway.

\- - -

They go on like this for a while. For her part, despite her distrust and initial disbelief, Casey’s actually being very… cool about him being her room 24/7. At least, as cool as a person like her can be, anyway. He’s honestly surprised; the way he makes fun of her all the time had made him sure she would snap pretty quickly, but she’s being awfully polite and accommodating.

He isn’t sure if he likes it or he doesn’t. On one hand, her being polite basically means he gets to get away with whatever he wants, which he definitely doesn’t have a problem with. On the other hand, though, it’s also a lot less fun; he’s used to winding people up, and it’s just not working in the least. Like it used to be, before she knew about him, but to a lesser degree. He can still talk to her, after all.

But the time he spends with her is… _awkward_. Artificial, maybe. Once the formalities were over and they figured out in detail what he would do while she showered or whatever, she’d been insistent on making small talk and “getting to know him,” but not in any significant way. It’s not that he _wants_ her to pry into his past, which he still doesn’t really want to talk about, it’s just that it feels like she’s only talking to fill a silence, and he’s never been into that. He’s cool and mysterious, not the kind of guy that goes into detail about his day.

And it does get worse as time goes on. She’d been somewhat relaxed in the beginning, but somewhere along the way, she’d become this overly happy and friendly boring nothing.

It’s when she asks him if he’s ever taken Business Law over her textbooks when he finally snaps.

“Listen, Casey. Just because I’m here and you’re here doesn’t mean we have to talk every second. You don’t need to ‘entertain’ me. Not like you’re doing a good job of it anyway.” He gestures to her desk, where her laptop is on and her textbook is open. “Like… look. You’re obviously studying. That’s fine! I can handle that. I’ll be able to survive a couple of hours of not talking; that’s kind of how I spent the last million hours before I met you. I didn’t die to talk about whether or not I took Business Law with a freaking keener, Jesus Christ.”

He looks at her. Had he been too harsh? Her expression isn’t telling; her eyes are narrowed at him, but like she’s deep in thought rather than stewing in anger.

Well… she’s been replying to his insults with the most polite of answers lately, so whatever happens probably won’t be that bad. And either way, it’s not like he won’t be able to deal with it.

“Why _did_ you die?” she asks him quickly, and it takes him a second to process it, just because it’s so off-topic and _ridiculous_ that the question is hard to register.

After he realizes, though, his expression shifts from blank to thorough bafflement, his mouth open like he’s about to answer, but he can’t even think of what to say to the question because of how completely it misses the point of his entire spiel.

He sees her glance at his expression and her eyes widen, like she’s only just registered what she herself just said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, I was just thinking out loud, and-”

“Yeah, I know you do that. I’ve been here awhile,” he sighs. “Okay, so I’m not going to answer that question, and…?”

“I’ll study.” She flashes him a hesitant and probably disingenuous smile. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and leans the back of his head on the wall, tired.

\- - -

The silence lasts for about an hour, maybe an hour and a half. But really, it’s his fault his ends. He can’t even pretend otherwise.

It’s just… he’s underestimated just how boring it is to watch someone study, especially when you know that person does it for hours on end _all the time_. It’s like the way when you have something way better than what you’re used to and get used to that instead, what you were used to before seems all the worse, even if you were okay with it before.

He hesitates to call talking to her “way better” than the usual, but it honestly is. Stewing in thoughts alone in a corner is terrible. There is nothing he’d prefer to that.

“Hey, Case,” he says.

She turns in her chair to look at him, curiosity on her face. “What happened?”

 “I’ve never taken Business Law,” he forces himself to say, and then closes and opens his eyes in exasperation, taking a deep breath. “Do you like it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys liked it! whether or not, please leave a comment or kudos or any sort of feedback, haha; i really appreciate it. and thanks for supporting the fic; it’s super cool of you guys. it’s nice to know i’m not writing into a void, especially since this is a show for children that ended back in ’09, welp.
> 
> also! if there’s anything you’re not really sure on about casey’s characterization, it’ll be clarified in the next chapter. if you’ve still got issues then, talk to me. or talk to me now. i’ve a very lonely sort of person. :’(


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